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Author Topic: cat-girl needs owner [Sub F for affection, BDSM, any gender partner]  (Read 526 times)

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Offline Synecdoche17Topic starter

Longtime gone from E; just returned.  :-)

Looking to kick-start one of my old fantasies, where I play a cat-girl in a world where they are treated like pets. Fetishes primarily center around pet play (I am your kitten), loving affection, consensual S&M. My character is going to be intelligent in her own way but generally non-verbal. The plot features your character domesticating/adopting mine; subsequent chapters could include your character sharing my character's body with others, or pregnancy, or adding additional kitties to your sexy fuzzy-eared harem. Whatever floats your boat; I just want to be cossetted and collared.

Character Illustration:

And, for reference, my opening post from the last time I found a partner for this RP:

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide
The rain came down in thick, punishing sheets that stung her bare skin and plastered her long, furred ears to her head. Her slender frame trembled unceasingly as she stumbled through the night, her feet splashed with mud. Cold wind howled through the trees, raking icy fingers across her skin, raising goosebumps. Far from home, hungry, desperate, she clambered over a rocky ridge, scraping her hip against a cruel limestone protrusion, and saw a small light below, the dull yellow of a cabin window, a single point of defiance against the infinite darkness of the night.
   The light stung her with painful memories – memories of carpeted floors and soft beds, of warmth and fresh meat, of playful children who petted her and tied ribbons to her tail – and memories of hard looks, as she grew older, stronger, and uncontrollable. She would look up and see her owner looking at her intently; his wife watched them disdainfully, a paranoid gleam in her eye. There would be arguments between them later. She did not want to remember what came next: the long, silent car ride, the joyful exploration of a meadow, the sound of an engine fading in the distance, the bitter realization of betrayal, the grief of abandonment, the harsh, unending struggle for survival.
   She had come down the ridge, now, and fetched up against the side of the house. She had tried again and again to approach humans, but now, as a full-grown predator gliding out of the forest, she received a very different reaction than she had as a nekomimi kitten, when adults and children alike had clustered around her to coo over her delicate features, long ears, and mismatched eyes.
   The porch proved a better refuge than the lee of the house, being mostly dry and walled on three sides. The lamp’s golden beam fell across her body; she felt terribly exposed, and curled up in trepidation, her tail wrapped across her trembling thighs, her ears high and alert, ever wary for the sound of a door unlocking, a brandished gun, an angry shout.
   Her cheeks drenched with rain, the lonely alley queen huddled under the porch roof and waited for the storm to pass.